“How did you get to know so many of them? The bars?” her mother asked, her lips tightening in disapproval of where she had met them. “But it doesn’t explain how you came to be invited here and now know Director Wyatt and his family so well. I can’t imagine that’s easily done.”
Had her mother forgotten who had saved her the night Mark had died? Or were her memories just of her seeing her son’s body on that stretcher, that ring of red at his neck?
A chill raced through her, cutting through the serenity she’d managed to project in the past hours.
Gypsy turned back to her parents and arched her brows. “I don’t know, Mother, they like me, I guess,” she said faintly. “That or they like Kandy’s chocolate mousse cake.”
It was probably the cake, now, but nine years ago, it had been Jonas who had sworn she would always have a safe place to live if her parents no longer wanted her.
Her mother frowned; her father just watched her with that faintly accusing look she found so disheartening. It was one of the few looks she couldn’t read, and that made her nervous.
“You should have mentioned you knew them,” her mother said accusingly.
She shrugged. “It didn’t seem a big deal.” More importantly, her parents never wanted to hear about the Breeds who came into the store, or those she’d become friends with. Actually, she didn’t remember her mother ever caring who her friends were.
She turned back to the scenery, wondering if Jonas intended to come out and face her anytime soon.
As the thought went through her mind, the door on the other side of the room opened again and Diane returned, followed by Jonas and Rachel.
The director looked particularly sophisticated and handsome. His black hair had grown out a bit; his eerie swirling silver eyes seemed to see everything, know everything.
His smile was friendly and polite as he was introduced to her parents, then lit up with genuine fondness as Gypsy rose to her feet and accepted a quick hug from him.
“It’s good to see you again, Gypsy,” he said sincerely. “You need to visit more often.”
That was Jonas. He was a kind man, but that kindness did not get in the way of whatever machinations he was involved in. It made it hard to hate him, easy to love him, impossible to trust him.
“I try, Jonas,” she assured him. “But that three jobs thing, ya know?” She smiled up at him, comfortable with the affection but waiting for the shoe to drop.
“I told you when we first arrived, there’s a job waiting for you with the Bureau.” He gave her a firm, knowing look. “At any time you could have walked into a PR position in D.C. or in the liaison office in Window Rock we established several years ago. All you had to do was give me the word.”
“And I told you,” she reminded him firmly, “I’d kill you the first time you tried to run my office and then Rachel would hate me.”
“All according to the circumstances, Gypsy.” Rachel laughed as she moved forward for a quick hug as well. “It’s wonderful to see you.”
Gypsy returned the embrace, observing the practice she had seen with others when around women whose husbands or fiancés were Breeds. She let Rachel embrace her, aware that the other woman’s hands never touched skin, but rather her back this time. The weather had been cool the last time they’d met and Gypsy had worn a jacket. Rachel had gripped her forearms then, leaning close but not really touching.
“Tell me, how’s that little moo-baby doing?” After Amber had called the mousse cake “moo-cake,” Gypsy had taken to calling her the little moo-baby.
“She was asking for moo-cake the other day.” Rachel tried to smile, but Gypsy could see the pain and fear in her eyes.
“You should have called me,” Gypsy chided her gently. “You know I would have had Kandy make one the instant I knew.”
“Gypsy’s mousse cakes are actually much better than Kandy’s.” Her mother spoke behind her then. “You should have her bake one of her own.”
Gypsy shot Rachel a little wink, hoping she’d think her mother’s bragging was just motherly loyalty.
“She didn’t mention that when she was here before,” Jonas said, moving behind his lover and placing his hand at her lower back as his gaze met Gypsy’s. “I’ll have to see if I can’t get her to do that for us soon.”
And he wasn’t joking.
Great. Of course, Jonas would know it wasn’t just motherly pride.
“I’m a very busy woman, Director,” she reminded him with a cool smile. “And I understand I’m about to become even more busy with one of your commanders?”
Jonas chuckled. “I can see the suspicion in those pretty eyes, Ms. McQuade. Did you think the offer a ruse of some sort?”
“Perhaps not a ruse—”